


Far Too Long

by Faith_Writes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Wingfic, loosely inspired by DreamSMP fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28981779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faith_Writes/pseuds/Faith_Writes
Summary: Attacked and shunned for his wings, a young boy resolves to remove himself from the very thing he once prided himself on.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 3





	Far Too Long

It’s been far too long… 

Wings, hidden from view for far too long. 

Wings, tucked beneath the skin, aching to spread their feathers once more. 

The last time he’d let out his wings, he’d been shunned and chased with pitchforks and arrows and the screams of the damned. 

This time is no different… it never is. 

The feathers, stained with blood and beyond saving, are tucked tightly at his side as he wills them to return. 

They do not.

Once pristine, his wings are sticky with red, flight feathers bent and clipped. 

He is grounded, trapped to the mortal soil. 

His wings still drip with blood as he makes a run for it, jumping between buildings and hiding behind the simple guise of a human being. 

A long, black coat hands loosely over his small frame as he escapes the wretched town, pausing for breath and inhaling sharply at the pain that shoots through his body. 

An unsteady thrum of blood courses through his veins. Adrenaline is high, fight or flight is no longer an option. 

Only one option remains. 

His wings fan out, black and red feathers spreading to reveal the full extent of the damage to his pride. The large coat over his shoulders slides to the ground, covered in droplets of blood. 

The pride of his wings dies with the blade at his side. 

Sharpened and ready, he breathes in, exhales, and takes the blade upon himself. 

A muffled scream and tearing muscle, feathers falling and fading to dust. 

A single wing falls, coated with dried blood and dying flesh.

… and then another. 

The knife lay blooded and red by his side as he breathes. 

Fight or flight, they said. 

His pride extinguished, the flame at his back no longer burns with fury. 

He is cold, alone. 

… but he’s alive.


End file.
